


Zorro's Gonna Get His Man

by LadyDrace



Series: Connor Is Basically Zorro [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Cat Burglar Connor (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, POV Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Relationship, Thief Connor (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27838150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Connor gets caught once again by his dream man.Too bad Connor has to escape this time too.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Connor Is Basically Zorro [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987648
Comments: 17
Kudos: 54





	Zorro's Gonna Get His Man

**Author's Note:**

> This insert is also set before the events of the first part of the series.
> 
> As always, all my love and gratitude to my Hankcon Haven discord friends who hype me forever. <3
> 
> Unbetaed (because that's just how I roll now, apparently.)

It’s a few months after that first heist before Connor is sent on another one.

He would have preferred to move on to the next one immediately, but Amanda was extremely unhappy that Connor somehow managed to attract the attention of not only a cop but a police _lieutenant_ , apparently.

It was complete coincidence. The lieutenant – a Hank Anderson – was genuinely just in the building by chance, and poked his nose around on a hunch. Amanda grilled his superior for hours to make sure they hadn’t somehow fucked up and done something sloppy, but, if the captain is to be believed, if anyone would be able to bust a criminal on a random hunch it would be Anderson.

His record is so stuffed to the brim with high profile cases and excellent solve rates that Connor _almost_ regrets not letting himself get caught. It wouldn’t even have felt so bad to get busted by someone this awesome.

Except it _would_. It would’ve hurt Connor’s pride something fierce, and Amanda would never have spoken to him again.

All of that said, there _is_ still a small part of Connor that likes the idea of a hot, older man with brains _and_ brawn taking him in, but that’s gonna have to stay in his fantasies. For now, anyway.

Not that Connor will have to miss the lieutenant for long, apparently, because they’ve barely started on jobs again before Amanda delivers the news that Lieutenant Anderson is now officially on Connor’s case. She talks for a while, but all Connor can think of is that he might get a chance to see his dream man again, and – even better – it might happen in the most dramatic and ridiculous ways imaginable, and it’s like Christmas come early.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes,” Connor says, completely straight-faced, but there’s a reason he shares a last name with her. She’s seen that bullshitting face on a regular basis since he was a snarky teen in the foster system, and she’s never been fooled. That won’t stop him from trying, though.

“You realize I won’t hesitate to replace you,” she warns, and Connor makes a good show of looking humbled, even though he knows as well as she does that no one else can do the job Connor can. Unless of course they start from scratch and dig up _another_ cop who spent their entire childhood getting in and out of places they were not supposed to, and has an almost unwise lack of fear.

Connor isn’t afraid of heights or guns or pain. No, what Connor is afraid of… is disappointing people. Amanda more than anyone else, since, despite her cool demeanor, she was the first person in his life to believe in him at all. To expect _better_ from him.

She’s not his mother, she never adopted him. But he took her name, eager to erase all traces of his old life, and while she has never expressed any opinion about it, positive or negative, she’s also never denied their relationship or been anything other than painfully objective about Connor’s skill or lack thereof.

If there’s any kind of true north for Connor to set his direction in life after, it’s her. And he both loves and hates her for it.

It’s a complicated relationship.

“I understand,” he says, and listens dutifully to the rest of what she has to say without getting distracted. Much.

\- - -

They know in advance that the DPD is aware of most of the next targets. None of the beat cops sniffing around are directly connected to the case, but they are definitely keeping an eye on likely places to get hit, which speaks to Hank Anderson’s skill at delegating, and also shows just how much goodwill he has going for him everywhere.

No one seems to genuinely dislike him. From what Connor can gather through various channels and from listening in on conversations, the worst anyone can say about Anderson is that he had about a year of somewhat self-destructive grief after losing his only child to a car accident, and that he apparently curses like sailor. But he made his way out from the grief, only occasionally turning to the comfort of alcohol these days, and he’s back on high profile cases like he never left. Hell, he busted a massive red ice operation barely a week before catching Connor in the act, and yet, he’s not posturing about it at all and remains dedicated to the job.

The only people who express negative opinions that Connor can find are the people who want to be him or fuck him, and are salty about not getting what they want.

Connor can relate. He _also_ wants to fuck Hank Anderson, and it’s quite frustrating that they’re currently supposed to be on opposite sides.

He’s digging around for information about Anderson’s personal life, somewhat pathetic in his desire to know whether the lieutenant’s seeing someone, when Amanda catches him at it and damn near shuts the whole thing down until Connor can convince her he’s not losing it.

She has a point, he does need to focus. Too much is riding on this.

So the next day he’s ready for another heist, suiting up and doing stretches and makes sure to not think about Hank Anderson at all.

Which works right up until the moment the man catches him in the act _again_.

“Well, well, look who it is,” Anderson says, and Connor would be a lot more excited about hearing that voice behind him if he hadn’t been assured from literally everyone that this location was _not_ known.

Someone dropped the ball, clearly, and Amanda will have their head on a platter once they find out who. But, until then, it’s up to Connor to hopefully slip through the DPD’s net once again.

“Lieutenant,” Connor greets, turning around with a smug grin, determined to make the most of it, if nothing else. “I don’t recall us having a date tonight.”

“Been looking me up, have you?” Anderson says, twitching the gun until Connor moves away from the safe. He didn’t even take anything yet, which complicates things.

“Of course I have. You’re telling me you wouldn’t Facebook stalk a hot stranger after a first meeting like ours? Lies.”

The lieutenant doesn’t buy Connor’s insinuations at all, and he’s cool as a cucumber as he directs Connor to lie face down with his hands behind his head, clearly not about to wait for backup this time.

His loss.

Connor is really sad that he might have to hurt that beautiful face.

The minute Anderson touches him, Connor rolls, kicks the gun out of his hand and tangles their legs together to bring him crashing down. It’s almost all over when he gets a grip on Connor’s ankle, but having his other foot free is all he needs, and he delivers a sharp kick to Anderson’s temple. That’s enough to daze him for a handful of seconds, and Connor quickly steals his handcuffs and locks him to a nearby desk.

It won’t hold him for long, but it’s all Connor needs to jump up, fill his bag and make a run for it.

“You little _fucker_ ,” Anderson snarls, and with a terrifyingly sexy amount of brute force kicks the leg of the desk clean off. It’s still connected to a quite big wood panel, which is now dangling from the lieutenant’s wrist but with how large and strong he is, he apparently barely feels it. Or maybe it’s rage-induced adrenaline. Whatever it is, Connor only just manages to dart into the staircase by the time Anderson is back on his feet, gun in hand and giving chase with the large square of plywood clanging against walls and railings the whole way.

Connor can’t help but grin to himself, giddy like a school boy as he jumps up the stairs, Anderson hot on his heels, huffing and grunting like a bull but _keeping up_.

God, Connor wants to let himself be caught so badly. _He can just i_ _magine the sex_.

But he needs to stay focused right now, darting through empty night-time offices, hoping his dark outfit and quiet feet will be enough to shake his pursuer. Anderson has sharp eyes, though, and never lets him get too far ahead. It _would_ be irritating if Connor wasn’t having so much goddamn fun.

But all good things must come to an end, and Connor needs to cut this short before Amanda has a quiet coronary. He thinks over the layout in his head and picks a route.

Left, left, right, jump left, kick a wheeled cabinet in front of a doorway, and slip through a glass door to a balcony.

Well aware he’s hamming it up, Connor does a smug swan dive off the balcony, looking for all the world like he’s about to become mince meat on the street several stories down, while Anderson lets out a horrified curse from witnessing it. But instead of letting himself fall, Connor grabs the exposed support beams under the edge of the balcony, and uses them like monkey bars to get underneath it completely, forcing his breaths to slow and quiet as he hangs from his arms in the cool night air.

He can feel the heavy footfalls right above his knuckles as Anderson emerges onto the balcony, the stupid plywood still clattering against everything as he leans over the edge, wheezing for breath and cursing up a storm.

“What the fuck, what the actual fuck, jesus christ,” he babbles, obviously wigged out by how Connor should be dead on the street below, but instead vanished into what seems like thin air.

It’s not enough to rattle Anderson completely, however, and Connor’s arms get progressively more tired as the lieutenant examines every single inch of the balcony in the hopes of finding out where he went.

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Anderson mutters eventually, and hisses in pain as the plywood catches on something yet again. “Oh my god, what a _little shit_.”

Connor has to pinch his lips together to avoid snickering, and is punished for his mirth by having to hang there while Anderson digs for the keys to his cuffs so he can release himself.

“Ow, motherfucker,” he grumbles and then heaves a heavy sigh. “Jeffrey’s gonna fucking kill me.”

And then he _finally_ leaves, allowing Connor to move to a drainpipe where he can hold himself up with his legs until his arms stop aching so much.

One day, when all of this is over, Connor will find Hank Anderson and take him to bed, and that’s a promise.

Because, god, what a waste otherwise.

End.


End file.
